


Fucking Finally

by orphan_account



Series: Escape!verse [3]
Category: Smosh, Video Blogging & YouTube RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Criminals, Cohabitation, M/M, Masturbation, On the Run, Pre-Slash, Sexual Frustration
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-08
Updated: 2014-02-18
Packaged: 2018-01-11 15:29:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,469
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1174726
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After being cooped up in the apartment together for far too long, Ian finally goes out, and Anthony gets some privacy. When Ian gets home, he brings whiskey.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Anthony shut the bathroom door behind him. It didn’t lock, but whatever. Ian was out anyway, and Anthony was finally – fucking  _finally_  – getting some alone time.

They’d been living practically in each other’s faces for so long now that Anthony was getting used to it, but when they had periods like this where they went for days without leaving the apartment, Anthony started to feel like he was going to punch Ian the next time he opened his mouth.

And the pent-up sexual frustration of going on eight months without getting laid wasn’t helping much either.

But Ian was gone, thank  _fuck_ , after four days of being cooped up in here together, and Anthony could finally relieve some of that tension.

He leaned back against the door, tugging his sweatpants down in the front, just far enough to pull his dick out. He was half-hard already just from the  _thought_  of coming, and God, he was going to make this last.

He cupped his balls in one hand, rolling them gently, and rubbed the thumb of his other hand along the underside of his cock. He breathed out a sigh of relief – finally, finally, fucking  _finally_  – and wrapped his hand around his shaft, giving it a few quick strokes. Precome dribbled from the tip of his cock, and he rubbed his thumb across it, circling the head gently and stifling a moan. He started stroking his cock for real, long slow movements of his wrist, letting out little gasps and groans under his breath and  _fuck_ , when did his own hand start feeling this good?

He rocked his hips, thrusting into his fist now and fuck,  _fuck_  he was getting close and he was practically seeing stars already, heat building in the pit of his stomach, oh  _fuck_  –

He heard the apartment door burst open, and Ian yelled, “Anthony, I’m home.”

And… there it went. Anthony sighed, not feeling remotely near the edge anymore. He was considering going for it anyway when Ian knocked on the bathroom door, so close to Anthony’s head that he practically jumped away from it.

“Hurry up in there,” Ian called. “I gotta take a piss.”

And that was that. Anthony sighed, tucking his still half-hard dick back into his pants. He ran the sink for a minute or two and then flushed the toilet, so that Ian wouldn’t figure out what he’d actually been doing in there. He opened the door, and Ian practically shoved him out of the way, pulling his cock out and pissing a fucking waterfall into the toilet without even shutting the door behind him. As if Anthony needed a final thing to put him out of the mood. He flopped down on his bed, face-first into the pillow.

“I got whiskey,” Ian called over his shoulder as he washed his hands. “Wanna get drunk tonight?”

It was amazing how quickly Anthony’s mood improved. “Fuck yeah,” he said. He definitely needed a drink. Or two. Or as many as he could handle before passing out. “Fuck yeah.”


	2. Chapter 2

Anthony took another swig from the bottle of whiskey, handing it back over to Ian. Ian took a long swallow before setting it down on the floor.

“Fuckin’ smashed,” he announced, before flopping backwards on his bed. “Room’s spinning,” he added, staring up at the ceiling with grin on his face.

“Fuck, yeah,” Anthony agreed. He felt great. He couldn’t concentrate on any of his problems anymore; he was happy to sit on his bed watching Ian roll around pointlessly, half-laughing and half groaning. Ian’s shirt was ridden up around his waist, and his beltless pants were slowly making their way down over his hips. Anthony could see at least half of his boxers, and he couldn’t hold back a laugh.

“What?” Ian slurred, propping himself up on his elbows to look at Anthony.

“Your boxers have fuckin’ hearts on them.” Anthony giggled, “Fuckin’ pink lil’ hearts.”

“Pfffft,” Ian said. “That’s ‘cause I’m the fuckin’ master of of romance.”

“Yeah right,” Anthony said, throwing a pillow at Ian. Ian caught it mid-air, somehow, and threw it back.

“I’m so sexy,” he insisted.

“You are the least sexy person I’ve ever seen.” Anthony said, and he was dimly aware that that wasn’t entirely true.

“I’m hot,” Ian said, pushing himself up onto his knees on the bed. He ran his hands over his body, from his chest down to his thighs, thrusting his hips forward and nearly falling over in the process. “Shit,” he gasped, laughing as he put a hand on the wall for support.

“Oh, yeah, real sexy,” Anthony said. “Girls love a guy who’s too drunk to keep his balance.”

“Like you wouldn’t want this,” Ian teased. He pulled his shirt over his head, flexing not-entirely-imaginary muscles in his arms. He unbuttoned his jeans too, and they fell down around his knees.

“You wannnnnnt it,” he said again, and God, Anthony was too drunk for a mostly-nude Ian pretending to seduce him. Or maybe not drunk _enough_.

“I need another drink,” Anthony said, shaking his head. Ian reached down to grab the whiskey bottle again, smirking as he picked it up.

“Wanna do body shots?”

Anthony bit his lip. Oh God. _Kind of, yeah._

“Kidding,” Ian said, rolling his eyes and passing the bottle over to Anthony. “Man, even when you’re drunk you gotta take everything so _serious_. Chill. ‘M not gonna try to fuck you.”

“Not like you’d have a chance anyway,” Anthony said, falling back into the banter easily enough. He took another drink, washing away that weird, drunken moment of confusion.

“You’d fuck anything with a heartbeat right now,” Ian insisted, and Anthony attempted to look indignant.

“How would you know?”

Ian laughed. “Because I would too. Gettin’ pretty  fuckin’ tired of the whole celibate thing. Bein’ a fugitive sucks.”

“Not even anywhere to fuckin’ jerk off in here,” Anthony groaned. “We’re always together in this shitty-ass room. You can even see me in the shower.”

“That what you were doin’ in the bathroom when I got home earlier?” Ian asked, smirking. Anthony would have blushed if he gave a fuck at this particular moment.

“Yeah, dude.”

“You get off?”

Anthony shook his head. “Was just about to.”

“You can jerk off now,” Ian said. Anthony stared at him.

“I’m serious,” he continued, shrugging. “We’ll just turn off the lights, put headphones on, and jerk off in our own beds, under the covers and all that shit. No one’ll see or hear anything.”

“But... I’ll know you’re _there_ , dude.”

Ian shrugged again. “Well, ’m trashed as fuck and horny as shit and I wanna touch my cock ‘fore I fuckin’ explode, so ‘m doin’ it anyway. Suit yourself.” Ian climbed to his feet and half-stumbled across the room, kicking his jeans off in the process. When he hit the lights, the room went dark. There wasn’t even a window to let in the moonlight.

Anthony sighed, blindly tugging his pants off and crawling under the covers. He listened to Ian grope his way back to bed in the darkness, and heard the other bed’s springs creak as he got into bed.

For a few minutes, everything was quiet, and Anthony was starting to think Ian had fallen asleep. _Thank God_.

Then came a hitch in his breathing, and another. The springs creaked again, and Ian groaned under his breath. Fuck.

Anthony knew he should grab his iPod from the bedside table, put it in and fall asleep so he didn’t have to hear Ian jerk off.

But the sound of anything sexual after so long – even his best friend touching himself – was starting to make him hard. _Damnit_.

Anthony decided that he was too drunk to think rationally, and he _really_ wanted to come after almost getting there earlier in the day. He closed his eyes, pulled down the front of his boxers, and wrapped a hand around his cock. _Jesus_ , that felt good.

He didn’t bother with the headphones. He could faintly hear the music from Ian’s, but he was too tired to reach for his own. Or at least it was easiest to tell himself that. His hand moved fast and frantic up and down his dick, eyes squeezed shut as he listened to Ian’s little gasps and groans, and fuck, _fuck_ –

He came almost without warning, fireworks exploding behind his eyes, his hips twitching helplessly as he shot spurts of come all over his stomach and the underside of the blanket. He was panting has he came down, the last of the pleasure shocks fading away. Everything was so fucking _sticky_ , but now he really was too tired to care.

He heard Ian come in the next bed over, and his dick gave a half-hearted twitch.

‘ _Fuck,_ ’ he thought, and then he passed out.


End file.
